


On A Slow Boat To Hell

by MidKnight2501



Series: Fall Behind Left Behind [6]
Category: James Bond - Fandom, Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: F/M, M/M, Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-23
Updated: 2013-01-23
Packaged: 2017-11-26 13:25:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/650948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidKnight2501/pseuds/MidKnight2501
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's sweaty under the arms and against his lower back and Silva isn't even pretending not to be examining him when he stands. James glares. Silva shrugs and sighs, then offers half a smile, like he's saying, 'can you blame me?'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On A Slow Boat To Hell

James wonders if he's going to get fat before he escapes or he's rescued. He thinks about this when he wakes up- for the third time in a week- to the sound of Silva cheerfully singing in the kitchen and the sound of bacon frying in a pan. The man is an excellent cook, James has learned, and he tries not to picture his forearms with the sleeves rolled up. He's a captor, a jailor, a rapist. James hates him in a sullen way, but Silva also cooks and asks how well he's slept and so far no one has done anything to hurt him. 

It makes his head hurt and James knows exactly why it makes his head hurt and he wishes M would just hurry the bloody hell up and get him out of here before his brain gets messed up. 

He might be a spy but people can only take so much.

Severine pushes the door open slowly and James pretends that when he sits up he doesn't do it too fast or that he jerks the bedding nearly up to his throat. She sees it but doesn't say anything, though her eyes widen just a little. 

“You weren't shy on the boat.” She half jokes and James shrugs. She chews her lip a second. “You should get dressed, we're going out today.”

“Out?” It can't mean what it sounds like it means. 

“I want to go shopping.” Severine says and leans in the doorway, crossing her arms low over her stomach. She's wearing the red wrap dress he remembers from the island, but this time there are black tights and knee high leather boots. Goose pimples dot her arms. “And unless you're utterly in love with all those white sweats, I think you'd like to go shopping too.” James shrugs again. “It's cold outside.”

And then she walks away. James stares at the empty door for a while until he decides maybe it's not a trick and maybe Silva is letting them out of the hotel. It doesn't make any sense but maybe he can slip away. There's certainly a lot more opportunities outside than in. 

He gets out of bed and starts doing pushups. 

Someone coughs at the door after he reaches fifty and James looks up, expecting a guard, or Severine, but he freezes when it's Silva, his arms locking out mid movement. 

There's a bit of color in Silva's cheeks and James realizes he's in his underwear and sweating on the floor. It makes him angry and it makes him blush. 

“Sorry. I was wondering what was keeping you from breakfast.” Silva says and James looks back to the hotel carpeting and slowly gets back to his pushup, refusing to let it show that Silva bothers him. “I made omelets.”

“I'm not hungry.” Even though he is. He gets to sixty and Silva is still standing there. Seventy. Eighty.

“I think there's a gym in the hotel, a small one probably.” Silva says and when James glances up he's leaning on the other side of the door from where Severine was, feet crossed at the ankle, hands in his pants pockets. There's a good deal of admiration and interest on his face. James stares at the floor in determination. “I don't want you to lose all your charms.” 

James grinds his teeth but he does need to be in good condition to continue his work. It was hard enough coming back after he'd been shot and sometimes his chest still aches with it. 

“Alright then.” James says, tone bland. 

“After breakfast?” Silva asks, worried about the omelets probably. 

“Alright.” James says again and gets up from the floor. He'd already gotten to a hundred anyway. He's sweaty under the arms and against his lower back and Silva isn't even pretending not to be examining him when he stands. James glares. Silva shrugs and sighs, then offers half a smile, like he's saying, 'can you blame me?'.

James slams the bathroom door and as he runs the sink he pretends he can't hear Silva's rich laugh.  
~~

After breakfast- there are three kinds of omelets and Silva forces him to taste them all- James comes into the living room of the suites with his plain white tennis shoes on and plain white sweats and finds several of the guards at a small table playing poker amongst themselves. One is by the door with Silva- who is wearing loose black track pants with a blue stripe up the side, and a blue fitness shirt. It all fits him rather well, though James refuses to notice. Severine is sitting by the window in a lounge chair and one of the sweater men is painting her toe nails for her while she reads a magazine. She waves her fingers at them a little. 

“Come on, James.” Silva says at the door and James stops moving. He'd assumed... the guards or something. Anything but Silva himself coming along. Or Silva working out. 

When they get down to the gym it's better appointed than James had imagined a hotel would go for. It's also just him, Silva, and a guard. He wonders what the hotel makes of all the guns, but he hasn't seen the staff. He wonders what Silva outlays for all of this. He wants to run more than anything else- literally and figuratively- and gets on a treadmill. Sets it for a punishing pace. Silva gets on the one beside him and after a glance over sets it for the same. 

Forty-five minutes later James is gasping for breath, sweat soaked, and his muscles are on fire. His blood feels like acid and he's light headed. He wants to stop running- he wanted to stop twenty minutes ago- but Silva is loping along beside him at the same pace and though he looks just as worn out as James is, he seems just as unwilling to quit. James knows it isn't a competition but it is. He's not going to be beaten by Silva, even though it already happened. He's going to stand up for- He's going to win- Just another mile-

He foot comes down on the treadmill and something in his calf cramps hard- He yelps and the treadmill keeps going, spilling him out onto the floor- James lands hard on his hands and knees and Silva shuts off his treadmill and gets down before the guard can come over. He digs his fingers into the flesh of James' calf, too hard so James almost screams, and the muscle slowly uncramps, loosening under the hard massage. James wants to punch him in the face. He thinks about it while he lays there gasping. 

The smile Silva gives him says he knows it and then his fingers stroke down hard and it's pure agony. 

“Done running?” Silva asks after a minute and James nods. “Weights?” James nods again, even though it's a terrible idea. He's exhausted. He's not going to quit. 

Silva helps him up with a hand- and James hates it- and he limps over to the weight bench, loads it up with too much for how long he's been away, and lays down. Arches his back, plants his feet, and lifts the bar off the frame. It's a bitch. It's a ridiculous amount of weight, what was he thinking, but he manages it five times before the thing in his chest flares up like he'd just been shot again-

And Silva gets between the wall and the rack as a spotter and helps him get the weight back up. He barely uses two fingers to lift it, letting James do most of the work like he's supposed to.

“Done?” Silva asks with one raised eyebrow.

“No.” James snaps, even though he knows he should re-rack. 

He does three more, just barely, Silva lifting more and more of the weight, leaning over him and bringing up bad memories before James' arms and chest give out and it all comes crashing down- Silva lifts it, arms bulging, re-racks, and James lays there hating every single thing about his life at this moment. When he can move he sits up. His entire body is shaking. 

“Are you going to spot me?” Silva asks, jokingly, and James shrugs. He'd rather press the bar down to choke him to death but the guard probably isn't going to allow that. He gets up and wonders what Silva is thinking having him as a spotter considering he's so exhausted. Silva pulls the safety clips off the end of the bars and takes the last weight off and adds a 45 to each side. He doesn't have the arms for that lift and James wonders what the hell he's thinking but Silva puts the safety clips back on and gestures for James to get out of the way. It's a stupid amount of weight. It's something James would put on the bars if there were girls here and he only had to lift it once and was probably going to get laid. 

He climbs behind the rack and hopes for an accident- like Silva will drop it on his own throat. 

Silva settles down on the bench, winks, and pulls the bar off the rack. He does five reps like it's nothing, even though he's suddenly pouring out sweat and his face has gone blotchy. It's more than James could do. He does five more and he's shaking. And then he does five more. James wonders if he's going to faint or have a heart attack first. Five more and Silva puts the weight up. 

He hates the man, but he's impressed. 

It must show on his face because Silva laughs as he sits up. 

“You could do that many if you had to.” 

James shakes his head. 

“If you had to. If your life depended on it.” Silva says again. “If you had to crawl out of a collapsed building, for instance.” 

People do things like that, but it's when they're high on adrenaline. They don't just do it in a hotel gym on an ordinary morning. 

“When you have nothing left- when there is only one way out- you'll find you can do anything.” Silva tells him and gets up. They're both gross and shaking. “Shower?” 

James coughs. “Not together.” He snaps and Silva laughs, throwing his head back and rubbing his neck. His hair is glued to his head with sweat. 

“I meant before shopping, darling.”   
~~

He takes a shower and when he reaches up to scrub his short hair with the hotel shampoo he can already feel the ache in his arms from the gym. It's disgusting how lazy he's become. Maybe he should get out of the spy game, like that Mallory man had suggested. He doesn't want to- he is doing what he loves, after all. But there comes a time-

James hates the thought but he has to face the facts. He's scarred. He's been through torture and death and- and- what happened back on the island- and he's been shot and rather than a bullet there's depleted uranium in his chest. It's asking for cancer. After he'd been shot by Eve- on accident, he knows that- it had been so hard to come back to the game. He'd come back for loyalty, like a kicked dog. It makes him think of that ugly thing on M's desk. He's out of shape, or the wrong shape for this now. Even if M could take him back- again- would she?

Someone taps at the door to the bathroom and James realizes he's been sitting on the floor of the shower for a long time, the water washing over him. Like in Monaco. Except Vesper isn't here because she's dead and he's alone. 

He scrubs his hands over his face and wonders what his life is coming to. There's a knock again, and a woman's voice.

“Yeah?” James shouts, over the shower. He can only just hear the door open but he feels the difference in the temperature of the room instantly. 

Severine taps at the glass door to the shower, then opens it. She's still wearing that dress from earlier and looks him over with a sad, knowing expression. “You're not going to get clean like that.”

“I know.” James sighs and doesn't even try to cover himself. It's not like she hasn't seen, anyway. 

“Raoul wanted me to check on you.” Where she's standing, with the door cracked, the shower stream doesn't reach but the steam from it has to be soaking through her clothes and it's going to wreck her hair in a minute. He's bedded too many women to think curls just stay in hair like that. “It's been a while.”

“Sorry.” James gets up, wishes she wasn't watching. It doesn't seem to matter but he feels naked all the time now. “I was... thinking.” 

She snorts and shuts the shower door. 

When he gets out she's still there, sitting on the bathroom counter. The marble of it is littered with dew from the steam and the mirror might as well be marble too. Her hair is hanging around her face in lank waves, but she's smiling at him, just a little. It's a very understanding smile. Normally- him just out of the shower, a girl on the counter in a very pretty dress- he'd be going for it like a dog on a scent. Instead he just stares at her. 

“Isn't Silva going to be wondering where you've got off to?” James asks, rubbing his shoulders with a towel. 

She chews her lip. “He'll be fine for a while. I can take care of myself- a little.” Severine jokes. “Come here.” And she pats her lap, like he's supposed to clamber up there. James stares at her dumbly until she sighs and does it again. He goes over, holding his towel around his hips and wonders what she wants. 

For once he hopes it's not sex. 

Severine pulls him close with her hands on his shoulders- her nails are just long enough it brings up the memory of them together that night on the boat- and tucks his head down against her throat. He stands there like an idiot for a long while before he realizes she's hugging him. His hand finds her knee instead of her side and he stands there, wishing he wasn't shaking. Severine hums and rubs his shoulders and the back of his neck for a while. It's pretty comforting, all things told. 

When he leans up, feeling better, she gives him a fragile smile and says, “I used to do that for the new girls, when I could.”   
~~

James sulks on his side of the town car they all take to the mall. Silva had produced jeans and a dress shirt for him, and some reasonable shoes so he doesn't look like a prison escapee. The man himself is wearing a dark colored suit and a blue dress shirt- the same sapphire blue as the running clothes earlier- and looks like an expensive, eccentric business man. Severine had changed after the shower- into another wrap dress but this one dark brown paisley, but the same boots and tights. 

Silva won't tell them where they're going, only that there are bodyguards in the car behind them and that if he has to he'll shoot someone to keep James in line. He doesn't say Severine, but James assumes that's what he means. She doesn't appear to be offended by it and the two of them are snuggled up on their end of the bench seat talking about the nightlife of Berlin and looking up things to do on Silva's phone. 

At the mall- and the thing is underground, with only a few exits and they're all guarded, so Silva told him- Silva waves goodbye to their driver and watches as the next car pulls up and several of his navy sweater men get out. They're not openly showing weapons but James has no doubt they're heavily armed. Escaping is looking more and more difficult, but he keeps getting distracted by finally being in a public place and people milling around them like nothing unusual is going on. Even the signs in German are refreshing to look at. Even the canned music is a blessing. 

Silva takes out a wallet and starts thumbing through money. “Now, James, I know you're a bit old to have an allowance-”

James makes a horrible noise and glares. Severine looks amused. 

Silva takes out three hundred in euros, folds it in half and hands it to James. “Don't spend it all in one place and you have to do a fashion show for us later.” James stares down at the money and wonders what it could buy him to get the fuck out of here. 

He hands a credit card to Severine. “No limit, darling.” And he even pats her on the head. 

And then they go into the mall proper, trailed and vaguely circled by the sweater men, and James wonders if this is what hell is like. He's so close to freedom- if he could ditch them and get a phone, or get to a computer unguarded, or a door- but there are too many people between him and it, and there's the threat of something happening to Severine...

After two hours it's starting to look like he might have to chance escaping if only to get himself killed. Severine spent the first hour trying on heels- all of which looked lovely- then asking them how they liked the shoes. James couldn't hardly tell them apart except for colors and that they looked good, while Silva sat there clapping his hands, cooing, and talking dresses with her. Winter colors, formal, gladiator straps. It spins James' head. The second hour she'd done the exact same thing but while trying on lingerie. 

When nothing happens downstairs during what might as well be his own personal Victoria's Secret Fashion Show James wonders if it would be better to be dead. 

They go dress shopping after that. And then get really bad Chinese food in the food court. And then Silva starts shopping for ties and shirts. The three hundred euros aren't even burning a hole in his pocket. Nothing looks good to him except jumping off the rail and hoping the fall through the gallery of the mall kills him when he lands. 

Severine pulls him aside in the second tie shop- James didn't even realize there were just shops for ties- and acts like she's asking him about the cut of a suit in the shop across the hall's windows. “James? You look lost?” And she blinks those big eyes at him. 

He looks across the hall, wishing he wasn't looking at the drop down. “I-” He doesn't even know how to finish that. Even shot twice and down a waterfall, drowning, he hadn't felt like this. 

A man looks up from the rack beside them, just glancing, but there's too much in his eyes and it sets off James' hackles. Instead of Severine touching his forearm, suddenly he's got a hold of her by her upper arm and jerking her closer. 

“James-” 

Through the window at the front of the shop, only feet away, two men come into view. Bad eyes- the kind he knows from missions and fights to the death- heavy, bulky coats the hide guns- 

“Get down!” James shouts, pushing her, and already going for the man beside them- 

At his feet Severine is scrambling under the rack, out of sight, and the man beside them is pulling a gun- James grabs his wrist, punches him in the stomach, then punches into the man's elbow as he falls- the gun flips out of his hand and James dives for it as the window in front of them erupts in gunfire- He sees Severine's terrified eyes peering out at him- the glass falling around them- and he scrambles for the gun, rolls, brings it up to aim- two of Silva's guards are dying on the floor beside him- he shoots one of the men in the chest, sends him flailing back out of view in the window- He can only just hear Silva shouting his name- and he gets to his feet, looking towards the window- he ducks aside just in time as the man shoots again-

One of the sweater guards comes up beside him, and crouches by the window- they both lean into he shattered window and fire together- the man outside's sweater rips open in gunfire and blood-

Something wraps around James' ankle and he almost shoots Severine in shock. She's crying, he realizes, and he pulls her up to hold her. He's used to that.

He's not used to the other pair of arms that wrap around him from behind. Silva is speaking in Cantonese, quickly, and Severine is nodding and sobbing into James' chest. He flails a little, wanting Silva off him in a panic, and then realizes he's got a gun and can do something about it. Silva's guards- the ones that survived- are getting up. Out of the six they started with two are dead, a third looks like he might not make it- like Brant, in Istanbul he hates himself for thinking- and the other three are wounded. The man James took the gun from is dead- he thinks one of the sweater men must have shot him, or his own men did. The two outside are a men, especially the last one. 

Silva lets go of him and Severine clings harder. With three of the sweater guards up and alive he's lost his chance to shoot their boss, but in the confusion he manages to get the gun hidden in his jacket. 

“We have to get out of here, sir.” One of the guards is saying, and the other is on a cell phone already. 

Silva crouches beside the body of the man James hit- turns him over roughly and starts searching him. His hands are angry and rough, pulling clothes aside and emptying pockets. 

“God-damn-” And he finishes the phrase in Cantonese which makes Severine stiffen up against him. James looks down and sees the tattoo on the man's arm, where Silva has pulled up his sleeve. It's not the same as Severine's but close enough. An enforcer? A guard? The truancy officer of whores? 

“Let's go.” Silva says in bitten off syllables and produces the X5 from somewhere. The tailoring must be excellent because even James didn't realize he was carrying. Out in the mall the police are starting to arrive and the bystanders look curious- the three remaining guards steer them to a back access hallway and they just barely escape into the parking deck and an SUV when the actual mall cops arrive. Severine is curled up in a ball, sobbing between the two of them in the backseat as they pull out of the lot, as the cops pull in with their sirens on. James keeps petting her back and wishing his hand wouldn't bump into Silva's doing the same. 

Silva looks furious. He looks furious until ten guards meet them at the front of the hotel and they're all openly carrying, and then they get into the hotel and Silva starts shouting. “How the fuck did they find us how did you not know they were onto us what the hell kind of security which one of you gave us away do you even understand-” He's all but waving the gun around and even James is a little scared. M had never gone in for hysterics but he'd known when he'd fucked up, certainly. Severine cries even harder and James finally gives up and picks her up and carries her back to his room. She probably doesn't want to be alone and he's not taking her to Silva. He pushes the door shut with a foot to block out some of the shouting and sits on the bed, rocking her a little, and trying to think of something to do. Comforting really isn't his strength- he flashes back to kissing the blood off Vesper's fingers and even that was pretty fucked up- the door opens suddenly and it's Silva. 

James tucks her closer and Severine turns to look, scared, then reaches for him. She sobs something to him in that incomprehensible language and he nods. He disappears and comes back in a moment, then sits on the bed beside them- which ruffles James' feathers- and feeds her two pills. 

“Darling, darling, you know I won't let them take you back.” Silva tells her, eyes only on her, and he reaches out to pet her hair. “You're mine. You're safe here. James wants to protect you and you know I will.” Her sobs are turning into hiccups and James holds her tight and settles for glaring at Silva. He pretends Silva's hand isn't brushing from her hair to his forearms, thumb pressing just a little too much into his muscles. 

“You won't let them take me?” Severine sounds sleepy when she speaks and James wonders what Silva gave her to calm her down. 

“No, sweet, you know I won't. You're going to stay right here with us. You're never going back there.” Silva promises her. Now he's only petting James' arm but doesn't seem to notice it, eyes only for her. 

“You said you'll kill me first.” Severine says, almost begging, slurring the words. James looks to Silva in shock.

“You know I promised.” Silva says, sweetly. She nods and drops right off to sleep.   
~~

James comes out to the living room of the suite and finds all the sweater men very cowed, one of them bandaged up and sleeping on the sofa. They're all doing things on the computers or the phone and Silva is pacing back and forth very quickly, snapping into his cellphone in Castillian Spanish. From his vague memories from Rosetta Stone it sounds like Silva is going to kill someone if they can't get something done very soon. Or maybe he needs someone killed very soon. James isn't sure. 

“Is she sleeping?” Silva asks suddenly, tone concerned, startling James in the middle of listening to all the vitriol. 

James nods. He's already hidden the gun.

“Good, good.” Silva says to him, then goes back to snarling into the phone.

James eats an apple in the kitchen, takes one last look out the window at the view of the city, and goes back to bed.   
~~

He wakes up in the middle of the night to find himself spooned around Severine, his face buried in her hair. He's only pulled the sheet over them both- fully clothed- so he shouldn't be as hot as he is. There's something odd- something different- he realizes there's a hand on waist, too big-

He jerks completely awake to find Silva curled up with them, on the other side of Severine- her hands are curled into the collar of his shirt, where he's unbuttoned it a few buttons. Silva is on top of the sheet and his arm winds over her body and onto his.

Silva stares back, as awake as James is. He doesn't smirk or stare and his hand only just barely flexes against James' skin. 

“Don't.” James hisses, quietly.

“I just want to know you're both alive.” Silva says, and doesn't move his hand.

**Author's Note:**

> The two songs for this were Duran Duran's Come Undone and Mumford and Son's Blank White Page. Struggled with the title for a bit. Almost went with Blank White Rage, but then I saw Bette Midler's cover of On a Slow Boat to China. 
> 
> I almost typed GTL in the summary.


End file.
